What the…?

[Take a deep breath, there are no full stops in following paragraph. I'm aware that you'll probably be reading this in your head in which case no preparatory breath will be required. And yet, I tend to get out of breath when a paragraph has no fullstops, even when I'm reading in my head. Why is that?]

Its been such a long time, I apologise for my absence (ok, there’s one). I’ve been meaning to write and I keep making mental notes of things to chat and tell you about and then I leave it again and again until the mental notes have become so numerous that they become jumbled and unconnected and then the task of mentally trying to keep each progressively outdated mental note relevant becomes more tricky and tiresome and more mental notes keep being added to the previous almost obsolete notes further discouraging any impetus to get on with the bloody task and weeks go by and more things happen and the thought of having to write about those new things and somehow recall the old things that have happened without boring the reader to death becomes the issue instead of the newest piece of news until eventually amid all this pointless storing of mental notes I finally get down to writing only to be faced with the question of how to go about structuring a blog that won’t just be a nebulous collection of notes that mean nothing to anyone and end up writing a whole paragraph on the entire mental process of writing a blog instead.

The End.

Not really. I’m going to work backwards. I’ll tell you my most recent happenings and then work my way back until I get bored and realise that in my head my list was interesting and vast but on paper is short and actually a bit shit.

This part is still confidential because its a work in progress and if I say anything before I’ve confirmed anything I could get into lots of scrapes and end up looking very foolish. But it involves fashion, castles and orchestra’s. And if I’m really good, Tilda Swinton.

Number 3.

About two weeks ago I decided to throw in the towel and become a full time cleaner. That is to say, I decided that if no one else was going to do the housework then I would simply have to give up on my career and do it myself because I couldn’t do both. Then I had a revelation. I thought “I feel a change a comin’” and to spur on this change I quickly applied a bottle of peroxide to my head which didn’t change anything it just made my hair yellow. Then I remembered my revelation which I shall try to explain to you with this analogy. When a plumber decides to become self employed and sets out to establish his career alone, does he feel guilty that he has to leave the house without hanging out the washing? Does he tell his clients he’ll only fix half the shower because he hasn’t done the ironing? When he’s fixing a broken pipe does he suddenly leave because he has to go home and make sure the dinner is on the go? No! Because if he did he would be a shit plumber. He wouldn’t get anywhere. His career would never begin. And there we have it. So now I’ve shed the guilt of not doing the housework, I can pursue my career guilt free! Lets see how long this lasts…

Number 4.

This is already way to long. So I’m going to combine a few thoughts. I have a new piano. Its my baby and I love him. He’s called Cramer and although there are many Cramers out there like him, he is my own. I met Jenni Murray. I love her too. She didn’t love me back but I can handle it. I started my show on Lionheart fm with Tam. I love Tam. I went back to my beloved London. Twice. I love London sporadically. I didn’t go to Luxembourg. I did some gigs. Yeah, I left it too long didn’t I? So I can’t remember what else. And….I’ve just reached the point that I mentioned I might reach in paragraph three. This is what happens when I leave it too long. I gabble. Good times though. I’ll let you know soon about this confidential thing. Laters x

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4 Comments

Hey Anna – great to hear from you – glad someone else accumulates copious lists and then forgets what is on the first list!! Oh and spot on re housework versus career – life’s too short to worry about the ironing!
Just emailing to say thanks really – we both enjoyed last Friday at the Wheatsheaf sooooo much – you were brilliant , so thanks and look forward to next gig ……. when is that?!!

Well, once upon a time, there was a woman with red hair
When she was in her stage act, oh, she didn’t have a care,
When she returned to Anna she got into a flurry-
She had a heap of housework and she really had to scurry.
Then she had to write a blog and was overwhelmed in words
So she moved between the sensible and crazily absurd.
Oh what a busy pixie, so busy all the day!
I bet she wishes now and then it all would go away!
But , no, she is a trooper, determined to the end-
A dedicated chanteuse, mum, good wifey and a friend

I hope this indicates to those ‘Elektrafans’ who only know ‘Penelope’ the quality of the lady behind her.

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